Days Like This

[odditycollector]

Well, I had a strange afternoon today, at least as far as writing goes. I mean, I sat down in front of my computer with the plan to finish a very specific Good Omens fic, and started typing.

And then, a little later, I had to frown at my word processor and say, "Wait a minute, this isn't the particular GO fic I was going for. This isn't even in the right fandom. This isn't even a fandom I've ever written for..."

So I opened a new file and started typing in it. And then, after a while, I realized that I had, again, missed my target. "This is not the particular GO fic I was going for. In fact," said I, "this isn't even in the right fandom. This isn't even a fandom I've ever written for..."

At this point I was sitting on a drabbley Lucifer thing and an odd Smallville ficlet, so I sent them off to daegaer and bravecows's drabble memes, respectively. I couldn't figure out what else they could conceivably be for.

Of course, at this point, I'd written past my daily word count target (unusual, for me), so I debated giving up and having dinner. But then I thought, Nah, one more try.

So I started on another blank page and, um, you might have heard this story before. But, at least, the new fic did have a purpose, because it's pretty much what yonmei requested.
 


First Age
 

The spell calls for the name of someone he’s killed, so Rupert buys a small, grey rat the morning before and in his own blood on a page of the Bible he writes, Fluffy.

And he’s laughed at, even though it’s his spell and his murder; even though he pretends that he just wasn’t willing to spend a grave act on a cheap high. Even though he means it. He’s laughed at, and there’s nothing to do except say the Latin and run the ripped page through a scented candle. He sprinkles consecrated dirt over the burning paper, and the room smells like spices and soot.

“Now what?” says Tommy.

Rupert says, “Wait.”

Rupert stares at the candle for almost a minuten and then he suddenly realizes that its flame is really just the twinkle of a young girl’s eye. “Dance with me,” she says through blue stained lips, and Rupert doesn’t say yes but he’s up and moving and twisting with the flickering shadows.

The girl sings, “Whhoooooooo.” She raises her arms and spins, and the ashes of Rupert’s sin scatter through the air.

They’re dancing, too.

***

Rupert’s sitting against the wall, and Diedre’s beside him staring at his hand like it’s the greatest thing she’s seen. She rubs it against her pubic mound, wetting his fingertips, and Rupert’s surprised by cool, smooth fingers on his other arm. He tilts his head to see and meets the stare of something (un)familiar grinning at him with perfect teeth. “Hello, Rupert,” it says.

Diedre is moaning now and running the fingernails of her free hand over Rupert’s chest and pushing his fingers into herself. She’s moving against him erratically and it’s wet and hot and tight, and Rupert feels like the hand belongs to someone else. The pale being (not human, knows the part of him that will one day be a very good Watcher. Not human, and the eyes are wrong) leans across and takes Rupert’s wrist, helping Diedre thrust.

“Or Ripper,” it says, mockingly. “They laughed at you, when you bade them call you that. Do you remember?” It moves forward, closer, and Rupert can feel the air moisten with its breath.

“Yes,” says Rupert, and Diedre says, yes, yes, yesss, like a breathless echo.

“Yes,” the creature says, and its lips brush against Rupert’s ear as it speaks. Diedre pulls away, leaving his hand slick and naked and lying limp on the floor like a dead amphibian. He lifts his arm and the hand follows; Rupert smells musk against the incense.

And now there’s pressure against his leg and suction over his already used thumb and it’s Ethan’s tongue licking at Diedre’s residue and Ethan’s hand slipping between Rupert’s thighs. The not human something he should know almost recognizes smiles in the corner of his vision and promises nothing except, “But you’ll earn it yet. That’s the way of names.” And Ethan kisses him and Rupert can taste Diedre on his lips even though it’s just Ethan and it’s like she’s still there between them.

“Would you like that?” says Ethan, and the creature isn’t gone so much as just watching from somewhere Else. Rupert (Ripper) doesn’t answer, but he slides his hand to Ethan’s ass and pushes his pre-slicked fingers into Ethan, hard. Ethan twitches and gasps into Rupert’s mouth and Rupert doesn’t let him move, fucking Ethan with Diedre’s cunt and biting Ethan’s tongue and slamming Ethan hard into the wall when he loses concentration for a moment and drops the rhythm of his hands against Rupert’s cock.

And Ethan’s still laughing.

***

There must have been sleep or unconsciousness at some point, because Rupert opens his eyes. He’s naked and aching and vaguely damp, and Ethan is lying on the floor facing him. Ethan’s eyes are open, but they’re still glassy. Rupert can see himself in them, overlaid with the pupil and iris and… something else. He inches closer to Ethan and squints.

Rupert imagines he sees a woman grimacing at him from the depths of Ethan’s eyes. She’s old and ugly, and she looks exactly like something he read about in one of his father’s books. In her arms is a small grey rat.

Rupert shivers, and it’s nothing but the magic leaving his system. Ethan closes his eyes and rolls away.